The Fury of the Blacks
by Darth Orack
Summary: Sirius Black, Last of the Blacks, donates blood to a blood ceremony when Harry is one. Post HBP, disregard epilogue,canon ending, and canon pairings. Heck, disregard everything following Ron's abandonment in DH.
1. Chapter 1

Little did the black haired, gray eyed 21 year old man know, he was about to fulfill his godfatherly duties by doing no more than adding three drops of his precious, Black blood to the sacred ceremony. Of course, no one could guess that the next few months would see a legendary group of friends splintered to the precipice of being broken beyond repair, of being eviscerated worse than one could do to an opponent with the blackest of magic. Moony, Prongs, Padfoot and Wormtail. Four of the greatest friends, four Marauders under one moon. None but Fate herself had to listen to the anguished shrieks of a friendship being shredding like cheap sheet metal, none shivered at the awful sound but Her. Sure, friends of the "only" surviving Marauder could try to comprehend his loss, try to understand, but only the Lady Fate shivered as the nails scratched their melodies on the chalkboard...

"I'm sorry sir. I truly regret this, but it's the only way. Forgive me, Professor Dumbledore." The voice echoed in the marble confines, sounding for all the world as if it were a small opera house. Then a blinding light filled the pristine vessel, and as if asleep on a bed, lay the greatest wizard of the age: Albus Dumbledore. But Harry Potter, to whom the voice belonged, knew him to be at peace, removed from the horrors of a war. Dead. Bright green eyes shimmered with unshed tears barely held in, and his black hair was windswept. With reverence, the 17 year old man removed the Elder Wand from his mentor's hands. After a moment's hesitation, he replaced it with his own Holly and Phoenix feather wand.

"Thank you sir. Thank you for giving me a fighting chance. I'll do you proud, I promise. Just...I feel so lost without you. I'm a contradiction, an enigma. I'm so empty, devoid of any fight at all...but I'm burning with lava flowing through my veins. From the depths of my heart, I feel the wisps of clouds forming, I feel an unfamiliar feeling flooding my senses, whispers of a loved one I know to be dead echoing in my head...I feel..." the young man cut himself off with a choked sob. "I must be raving mad, I'm talking to a dead man." he snorted, and with a wave of the Elder Wand, resealed the tomb of his mentor. Power rushed through his blood, The Deathstick jubilant at the thought of its new master. Unknown to the wizard walking away towards the gates of Hogwarts, changes started to take root in his soul. The Horcrux of the Dark Lord was consumed by a blazing inferno of power hidden behind old childhood restraints. Memories, spells, residual power all swept away in the tide of the hurricane being unleashed, only to be seized by subconscious instinct to be integrated. The power swept through his unfettered soul, pausing only to rip the last chain off the glowing white ball. Finally free, it reached to a wavy strand that was red in color, and at first contact between conduit and power, the conduit shot itself straight as an arrow. The power reached the choppy end of the bond, and subconsciously recognized it as a warm feeling, a feeling of safety and security, of wet dog and warm fur. At the end of the Godfather bond, a little bulb hung desperately on, begging to be unleashed once more upon Earth. With what humans would see as a bow of acceptance, Harry's soul allowed the little bulb in. When the two, powerful forces touched, something akin to a nuclear bomb went off in Harry Potter's mind, and the wizard slumped into the cot limply, green eyes wide open...


	2. Chapter 2

With the wizard now unconscious, the soul could begin it's true purpose. Unbidden, power surged back across the broken godfather bond, surging continuously in pulses, not unlike that of a heartbeat. The soul that belonged to Harry Potter responded to the pulses coming from Beyond with a hurricane of emotion, a tempest that roared in triumph. The soul reached into the magical core of its wizard and pulled pure power forth, and pushed it along the bond, and not unlike a surge of lightning, the bond started glowing an electric blue. Surging along the renewed bond, the magic sealed the choppy,frayed edges of the old bond, and began remaking it. After all, the other end was finally receptive to feelings and thoughts after almost two years. Rushing along, Harry's magic met a kink, but his power would not stall, not now with victory a breath away. It reared back as if a cobra spreading its hood, and struck. The kink dissolved and power continued on to its goal, faster than before. With an almighty crash, and an even stronger pull, the bond reconnected completely in a blinding flash of light.

In the Department of Mysteries, if anyone had been in the Death Chamber that night, they would have seen the Veil flapping in anger, the curtain whipping about in furls as if in gale force winds. There was a thud, and the winds became real, surging through the chamber and hurling solid stone benches from the floor. The tempest seemed to die down, and was gathering around a lump on the ground. Sharp gray eyes snapped open, and a wasted, once handsome form sucked in a stuttering breath for the first time since that fateful June. As the form's heart began to beat, and he pulled his second breath into his lungs, the oxygen _burning, _all Hell broke loose. The wind that had been gathering shrieked like a banshee and exploded outwards in raw fury. The tempest ripped the seamless stone floor to shreds, gouging marks in the solid black granite that resembled the surface of the Moon now. The winds died down suddenly, just to a light, cool breeze. For the first time since his apparent death, Sirius Orion Black unfolded as if from sleep, and stood tall.

Half a world away, a young man's green eyes opened slowly, and blinked. _Where am I? What the hell happened? _Shaking his head, Harry Potter attemtped to sit up, only to see a bushy head of brown hair resting on his stomach. _She must have fallen asleep taking care of me,_Harry mused. He cleared his throat experimentally. Not a single movement could be seen from his best friend, other than the gentle rise and fall of her chest. "Hermione? I can't get up."

Hermione shot up, her face already rivaling Gryffindor's scarlet. "Oh my goodness, HARRY! Are you okay? What happened? Was it a vision?"

"I don't know, but whatever happened, it wasn't Tom. I feel giddy, I feel love. Whatever happened, I can't shake the feeling that something really good just happened." Harry smiled softly. "So, what's for food today?"

With a giggle, Hermione responded with a light "I'm sure we can find something for the monster Harry."

"What monster?"

"Probably the one rumbling in your stomach!" Hermione's laughter erupted from her belly as Harry turned an indignant gaze her way. "No, no, no please don't!" Hermione pleaded, her ribs already threatening to burst from the laughter. Her friend, however, had no designs on refraining from tickling her in retaliation. With a squawk, Hermione collapsed under her best friend's ruthless assault.

Away from the teenage antics, Sirius Black rushed through the Department of Mysteries, finally getting to the lift out of breath. He had thoughts swirling in his head, but to an outside observer, his face was deathly calm. The lift chimed, and the door opened to a middle aged lady. When their eyes met, Her brown eyes opened wide. Sirius froze, not knowing what to expect. She shrieked, and everything went to Hell in a hand basket. Aurors poured out into the Atrium from seemingly everywhere, though there was only a fair dozen, it might as well have been the whole department. Sirius cast his first spell, silently stunning the lady and darting past her to avoid a flash of green light. Rolling under another Killing Curse, he fired off a silent Blasting curse from his low position, hitting the ground in front of the Aurors. One slumped to the ground, knocked out by debris. _This is great! I feel ALIVE!_ Black began laughing as he charged the group of his opponents. He dodged a spiraling purple hex, and kicked out, shattering the first man's jaw. Stabbing his wand at the second man produced a mouse on the ground. A series of spells came at him, but still laughing manically he summoned another Auror into the path of the curses.

"ITS SIRIUS BLACK! CALL FOR BACKUP! MEN DOWN IN THE ATRIUM!" _Shit! _He slashed his wand across his body, and another Auror fell clutching his bloody throat. He sent an overpowered tanning charm at another Auror, watching him shriek as his skin blistered before transforming into a black dog and bounding away. All around the hall, fireplace grates were closing down as reinforcements flooded into the Atrium. The floor under the animagus turned to ice, and he slid the last handful of feet under a grate before it closed. Transforming into a human quickly, he barked out "Headquarters!" and disappeared in a swirl of green flames. An instant later, he appeared in the basement of his childhood home, and shook himself clear of soot. His piercing gray eyes surveyed the kitchen, from the spotless table, to the smooth walls, to the gleaming copper pots on the wall. His shocked visage swiveled, taking in a basement that had never been this clean, not since his father had lived at least. "Kreacher!" An instant later there was a pop, and the house elf stumbled when he saw who was standing before him. With a stunned look, Kreacher popped away a heartbeat later, not hearing Sirius swear in frustration. _I suppose I can explore a bit,_ he thought as he left the kitchen.

"HARRR-RYYY!" Hermione shrieked. She was squirming underneath her best friend, struggling to gain an advantage so she could turn the tides and get her revenge. :Harrr-ryyyy! I can't breathe!" She smirked inwardly, knowing that she had him now. With a quick apology, he allowed her to breathe but easing the pressure on her ribs. She took a few token breaths, then she attacked. He wasn't the youngest seeker in a century for nothing; he had amazingly fast reflexes. The one arm she had managed to free was quickly subdued behind her head, quickly followed by her other one. Sparkling cinnamon eyes met twinkling emerald green, and _something _was there. Harry leaned closer to her, and her to him. They were less than a breath's space apart, and the distance was closing. Then there was a flash of lightning somewhere in Hermione Granger's brilliant brain, and all the gears that constantly spun finally ground to a halt. She lost herself in the feelings, giving in to desire. Suddenly they was a POP and they sprang apart, Harry shielding Hermione and training his wand quickly.

"Master, you is needed home. Old master, nasty shame of my mistress is there." Kreacher spoke in his gravelly voice.

"Who is it Kreacher?" Harry asked, but Kreacher had vanished. With a look, both teens grabbed onto each other and vanished with a soft crack.


	3. Chapter 3

A lone witch sat in an opulent room, light from the sun bursting through the windows in a fit of happiness she didn't feel. Something was wrong, she just knew it. Her dim purple eyes closed briefly, thoughts bouncing about in her head a mile a minute. A surge of power rocketed through her veins, causing her to gasp. Her brilliant violet eyes snapped open, her curly black hair began to sway as if in a breeze. The power felt familiar...Suddenly, she felt it difficult to breathe, and after struggling vainly, succumbed to the black filtering around her vision. The second she passed out, her family's magic burst forth from where it had been suppressed, unholy fury filling her to the brim. Her core, once desolate and cracked, now shone with a faint silvery light. Outside the internal workings, her body lost its skeleton like appearance, filling her hollow cheeks and raising her sunken eyes. Her hair, once a frizzy mess of split ends and tangled curls, was once again luxurious and sleek. Of course, if you pointed out the small flecks of gray here and there, it'd be at your own peril, and in this case, it would be wise to ignore them. When her magical core was done, Bellatrix Lestrange had two missions, now that she was once again awake. First, she had to pay her dear husband a visit. Secondly, she must escape this bright room. She sneered at the brightness. A Black did not have a need for bright light to trim a tree. They much preferred to lop entire branches in the dark, though in this instance, she might have to make an exception and burn the whole damn tree down. Nothing a little friendly Fiendfyre wouldn't fix. She cackled as she knelt before her old trunk from Hogwarts, removing the two dirks that were a gift from Cousin Sirius. Both gleamed with an unnatural light, though of different shades. One burned with the holy light of the Sun above, runes written in shining gold on the mithril blade exposed when she traced a long finger along its surface. The other was black bladed space metal, runes gleaming in flowing moonsilver, an alchemist's metal that was worth more than a third world country. Strapping those to her hips, she turned her attention to her walnut and dragon heartstring wand in her hands. How disgusting. With a mere twitch of her fingers, she snapped the vile twig, and plucked her own wand from the depths of her trunk. The one she had made when she was much younger, and just graduated from Hogwarts. The mahogany wand slid into her hand as if it never left, as if it never weathered decades apart from its mistress. The dark wand let off a downpour of silver and green sparks, and Bellatrix could hear the crackling and sizzling of the magic in the air. She took a moment to inspect the wand for any damage, any signs of the rich wood splintering or of one of the two cores poking out. Now that her cousin was dead (by her hand no less!) she couldn't ask him for the hair of a Grim willingly given, could she? At least, she'd have no trouble finding the second core. She still had a tightly compacted ball of space metal in her trunk, only part had been taken by her cousin when he had asked Charles Potter to craft the dirks for Bellatrix, and later by herself for her wand. She closed the lid softly, caressing the grim shaped lock lovingly. With a soft growl, the trunk sealed itself. With a casual flick of her wand, the trunk was the size of an ink pot, and in her hand. She stalked out of her room in Malfoy manor, not pausing at any of the questions hurled her way. Throwing the heavy oak doors open, she strode down the path to the main gates and apparated away, only to reappear an instant later in her room at Lestrange Keep, throwing that door open as well. She moved into the hallway, before pausing. She tilted her head, listening for any movement that might give away the location of her dearly beloved. Ahh, there. She heard the clink of silverware in the kitchen, and the sound of two gruff male voices arguing. _Perfect,_ her mind purred. The whole tree then, not just a branch. Within moments, she was sauntering into the kitchen, twirling her wand.

"If it isn't my dearest husband and his...sidekick." her lips curled into a sneer that Snape would die for, and raised her wand as both Lestrange men turned to face her, wands appearing in their hands.

"It was foolish of you to waltz in with that attitude, slave. On your knees for your master! Now!" Rodolphus was answered by a mad cackling that seemed to echo in the open kitchen, the room darkening quickly, plumes of smoke rendering regular eyesight impossible. The hair stood up on both of their necks, the brothers' wands training in opposite directions, while their owners fell into dual stances. Dual stances was commonly used by twins, and though the brothers weren't twins, they were but a year and a month apart. Being close in age helped build their relationship, and as such, they were a fearsome duo in fights, much like the Prewett twins in the first war. The cackling continued, but it was trailing off weakly, signaling that their antagonist had shifted positions. Involuntary reactions caused both wands to deflect a string of sizzling spells, coming from crazy angles. There was a clap of thunder that roared in the room, shaking the stone walls; and bright silvery-blue lightning crackled as it tore through Rabastan's shield as if it were paper. The wizard shrieked, twitching as his body burnt before Rodolphus' very eyes. His gray eyed gaze hardened, and with a wave of his wand, the smoke began to disperse, leaving eerie wisps trailing along the ground like slithering snakes.

"I don't care if you're my slave, bitch, but I'm going to kill you now! You killed my brother! I'll make you beg for death before I'm done with you!"

"Aww, is widdle baby Dolphie missing his bwudder? Maybe you'd like to join him!" Bella's wand snapped up, magic crackling from her wand in rapid spurts. Spells flitted through her mind, then her wand as her brain took up the ancient, and well feared, family magic of the Blacks. The Fury that swept through their blood, dormant until the person engaged in mortal combat. The Fury of the Blacks was well known, and well feared, for a reason. Not only did it call on spells and magic the user didn't know, or hadn't trained in, but it made the dueler just a tad faster, a bit more powerful, a bit quicker on their feet. The Fury tore knowledge of spells from small, crystal vials stored in the main Gringott's vault, vials filled to the cork stopper with crimson blood of the Blacks. It was blood magic at its most primal, its most powerful, and its most insidious. Every family member inherited it at birth, even squibs. Many squibs had gone on to be feared in the muggle world as renowned or infamous battle masters, both men and women. This power made it difficult to beat a Black in a battle, be it one on one or three on one, even. Sadly, many Blacks were arrogant, and the Fury of the Blacks was most commonly their downfall as well. Taking on too many, or much more powerful opponents couldn't be overcome by just hereditary magic. But two wizards that were below her normal power levels? Bah! Easy as sharpening her dirks, and as dull as doing so. She flicked her wand casually, opening up a storm of small cuts on her opponent's body. He shrieked in mingled rage and pain, and swiped a nasty crimson spell at her. She didn't raise her wand in defense fast enough, and a deep cut sprang open on her left shoulder. She shrieked in fury as she lost control of her family magic. Her brain blanked, and her motions became refined, graceful beyond human abilities. Her wand moved in an upstroke, causing Lestrange to conjure a wooden shield to deflect the unknown curse, but it was no normal curse. It was pure magic cutting through the air as if it were a claymore of the Highlands, peeling apart the wood as if it were parchment. Rodolphus barely had time to notice his left hand falling from its former position, separated from its host before his wife followed with a vicious down stroke. The magic burned through his right wrist, cauterizing the stump with the heat of a solar flare. He howled in pain as his wife widened her eyes in rage before slashing her mahogany wand in a perfect horizontal movement. His last sight was a brilliant silver disc of magic heading towards him, the edges of the spell trailing in fraying strands. Then his gray eyes took in nothing, nevermore.


	4. Chapter 4

**Warning for this chapter: Incest between Pureblood cousins, non explicit now and always. Considering the state of the Pureblood marriages, it really isn't a stretch. **Also, I appear to have forgotten to state that Harry Potter is not mine. While I'm wishing, maybe I'll ask for a pony?

The two teens reappeared almost instantly in the ancestral seat of the Blacks, hands entwined tightly. Harry dropped Hermione's hand reluctantly, spinning slowly, The Elder Wand training on every corner of the room. The soft light from the lit torches on the wall cast long shadows in the ancient kitchen. Harry's eyes narrowed, and with nary a thought, he swept his arms wide apart as Voldemort had done to attack Dumbledore at the Ministry. Silver light leapt at the deep shadows, the room suddenly brighter than any time in living memory. The room satisfyingly empty, Harry gestured Hermione to follow as he walked into the hallway with the portrait of Sirius' mother, and towards the stairs. She nodded, wand held high at chest height. Cautiously making their way up the stairs, and even checking most of the rooms, they saw nothing. They walked towards the last door in the hallway, Sirius' old bedroom, and as they got closer, the door clicked open softly, opening wide enough for them to pass into the messy bedroom. Harry entered first, his body stiffening in shock at the sight before him.

"Harry? What is it?" Hermione asked softly, her eyes following Harry's wand as it shifted position. Her gasp was blocked out by a concussive BANG from the Deathstick, and the giant grim on the bed jumped several feet in the air, somehow twisting itself in midair, and landing on the cold wooden floor in a tangle of blankets, dirty clothes, and furry limbs. Eyes wide, the shaggy, black furred Grim transformed into a familiar man, and with a wave of his wand, he untangled himself, all the while never removing his eyes from the couple in front of him.

"Who sent you? Was it Volde-" Harry's mouth moved soundlessly for an instant, before he looked over at Hermione, a small nod of his head thanking his best friend for stopping him before he activated The Taboo on The Dark Lord's name.

"Harry, there's no doubt it's Sirius. It's impossible to copy someone's Animagus form, light or dark magic. If it makes you feel more comfortable, ask him a couple question's only Padfoot would know."

Harry gestured at his mouth, and Hermione smirked before removing her charm with a flick of her Vinewood wand.

Harry turned to the man on the other side of the room, whom now appeared to be torn between rushing across the room, or being the perfect portrayal of a Pureblood Lord, ramrod straight and regal.

"If you're really my godfather, I only need to ask one question. After escaping from Azkaban in 1992, where did you first catch sight of me and what was I doing?"

"I escaped in 1993, as you well know, and it was in the neighborhood where you grew up, summoning the Knight Bus accidently. I think my appearance startled you, and if you hadn't fallen, the Bus may have hit you. Savvy?" Sirius asked in a raspy voice, his gray eyes glittering and his face hopeful. His face morphed into one of shock as his breath left him in the force of the hug and the emotions behind it. Hermione gave the two men a couple seconds, before she uttered an undulating war cry, and launched herself across the cluttered room. Both men turned to look just before a bushy haired woman wrapped her arms around both of them. The room was soon ringing in laughter, and tears of happiness, a break in the storm finally coming for the Light Side.

Outside the house, a hooded figure strode up the crumbling brick and mortar steps purposefully, and with a tap of her wand, the locks sprang apart, and the house she hadn't seen in nearly two decades permitted her entrance once more. She felt her tongue spring to the roof of her mouth, and an Albus Dumbledore made of dust swooped at her. Violet eyes burned like liquid amethyst behind the shadows created by the cowl of her hood, and her wand swept in a tight wave across her body. The dust figure disintegrated in a powerful blast of white light, small clouds of dust lingering in the hallway. She felt her tongue unroll from the roof of her mouth, and with a roll of her eyes she administered a Bubble Head charm to pass by the dust with no harmful effects. A soft pop of displaced air next to her caused her to drop to her knee, blood still roaring through her veins from the brief fight with the Lestranges, wand training on a spot between a man's fierce green eyes. They widened in recognition, and three curses sailed at Bellatrix in less than a heartbeat. Three sharp motions of her wand deflected the curses into the wall, leaving the plaster pock marked with carbon-scored gouges. Leaping to her feet, she let off two minor jinxes and a Stunning spell, attempting to stop the fight quickly and painlessly. It wouldn't do to...her thoughts trailed off into blackness as her opponent encapsulated her spells in a sparking globe of magic from his wand, and with a wave of magic she couldn't identify, her vision faded into nightfall.

Harry Potter stared at the witch laying at his feet, his shock warring with his anger over seeing Bellatrix. Small arcs of lightning were crackling over her robes, traveling up and down her frame. There was a stench of ozone in the air, and of burned fabric and singed hair. Silently, Hermione slid under Harry's left arm, snuggling into his side and offering her support. Sirius stood on the bottom stair, obviously not quite believing his eyes. He rubbed his eyes raw, and blinked a couple times rapidly before looking at the prostate witch. He closed the difference slowly, his feet nibbling on the 15 feet that separated the cousins.

"Bella dear?" he asked softly, his calloused hands brushing her sleek hair out of her face. He spotted her wand in her right hand, and could almost feel it calling to him. He reached over, and plucked the vibrating wand from her loose grip. His eyes were wide open now, his fingers ghosting over the dark wood reverently as he could feel the Grim hair core, willingly given by himself on his 17th birthday to the promising young witch. He could trace the spiral of space metal under the Mahogany wood with his long fingers, feel the Black blood thrumming from the runes etched into the surface of the handle by himself and his Bella. He spied a glint coming from her hand, pausing his inspection of her self made wand. Taking her soft hand in his own, he marveled at the yellow gold ring sitting on her finger, a familiar ring that James Potter had helped him pick out when it became apparent he had no choice but to marry his own cousin. At first, a 15 year old Sirius Black had been disgusted, and appalled (which of course, was nothing to how Bellatrix had felt, she had made that abundantly clear), but after Orion Black had explained it to both cousins, they both had to concede defeat. The family blood magic had been tampered with by a family member, and it had formed a marriage contract between Bellatrix and Sirius. The infamous blood magic was responsible for many things in the Black family. The Fury of the Blacks had started in the 13th century, several centuries after the earliest Black ancestor on the Tree. The head of House in the 13th century was desperate to prevent his family from dying out, as he only had a wife and a son remaining in the family. Every branch of the Black family had been eliminated in a blood feud with a family now extinct from both the dusty pages of history and the world at large. In order to facilitate survival in his offspring, he created a ritual that leeched all of his formidable skills and knowledge from his mind to place it in a vial of his own blood. He convinced his wife, a well known Enchantress, to do the same, and made sure his sons did the same. His intention was for all of the later Blacks to be able to have knowledge lost to the ages at their disposal in a fight , techniques imprinted on their subconscious' to better protect the continuation of the line. Lost to the ravages of time was how he had gotten the magic of the ritual to sustain itself until even now, and how he had made the magic a Family trait that was inherited by every member of the Blacks. Centuries passed, and the Blood grew more sentient, allowing the Black family to thrive in battle and survive everything from wars to famines and plagues. Somehow, Sirius reflected, his wonderful mother and the Lestranges had subverted the Will of the Blood, and drawn a marriage contract up between Bellatrix Black and Rodolphus Lestrange before Orion's corpse had even cooled. Whatever she had done, it was done because Sirius and Bella had found common ground, and were falling hard for each other. It didn't help that Sirius had run from home to escape Walburga course, he hadn't expected a restraining order from the Ministry preventing him from seeing his own betrothed, and Firewhiskey replaced Bella in his affections as he looked for her in the bottom of his bottle. Shaking his head, his mind returned to the present, wondering why she had taken to wearing the ring he had bought her. Frowning, and turning to face Harry, he saw his godson motion for Sirius to move out of the way, and he reluctantly did so as the small arcs of electricity faded from view and the woman shuddered in pain, and tried to stand up. Sirius rushed forward again, and helped her to her feet carefully. "What are you doing here, Bella?" he asked softly.

"Sir-i-ius? But...I killed you! I saw you fall through the Veil! I can't believe I did that...Its haunted my sleep since that day. Why did you have to not pay attention? The great Sirius Black of the Marauders, foremost carrier of The Fury, laid low by a recent Azkaban escapee?" sobs tore from her throat. "You must be a form of torture that Potter came up with." Suddenly her wand was back in her quivering hand, and the tip was scorching the hair at her temple. "I won't allow myself to be driven mad by my own failures, Potter! I won't give you the satisfaction! Avada Ked-" Sirius interrupted her with a soft kiss to her mouth, and as he held the kiss, she began relaxing in his grip, her wand clattering on the floor, followed by her body in a dead faint. "Grab the big file on the desk in the study and meet me in my bedroom please, Harry, I'll explain everything there." Sirius said, carrying Bellatrix out of the hallway and up the stairs. Harry and Hermione shared a bewildered glance, then a mutual shrug and they marched towards the upstairs study.


	5. Chapter 5

When the young couple made it to the bedroom ten minutes later, Sirius was sitting on the edge of the bed, with his betrothed's head on his lap as he combed his fingers through her hair. Bellatrix appeared to be sleeping, both her wand and two sheathed dirks lay on the ornate nightstand. Sirius had a soft expression on his face, making him seem ten years younger. Harry knocked lightly on the door jamb, Sirius' small nod telling him to come in. Hermione followed closely, carrying the large file. She handed it to Sirius, and plopped herself onto Harry's lap as he sat in the rocking chair in the corner of the room. Sirius' eyes followed their movements closely, a smirk playing at his mouth.

"I'm taking a stab in the dark, but you both want an explanation?" At both nods, he sighed deeply. "Let me start my story with the Blood ritual that you and I underwent in August of 1980, Harry. You see, Godparents are very important in the Wizarding world. So important, there's a whole branch of ritual magic based upon the bond that magic forms between Godchild and Godparent during the first blood magic ritual, 7 days, 7 hours, 7 minutes and 7 seconds after the birth of the child. During the first ceremony, where your birth parents acknowledged me as the Godfather, a bond formed between us. With me in Azkaban, the bond diminished to where it nearly frayed beyond repair. It didn't help that you were unloved with Lily's sister, and had an unknown connection to the Dark Lord. When I fell through the Veil, our bond should have snapped completely. The veil doesn't kill someone completely, it's just an in between place, a purgatory of sorts. Something cleared you of your connection to the Dark Lord, that's the only way our bond would have reformed, and something powerful must have happened to draw me to safety." Sirius paused to take a drink of water, closing his eyes for a moment. "That's it! You must have inherited the Black Family magic during the ritual! That explains almost everything!" Harry and Hermione both had clueless expressions on their face, which for Hermione was quite rare.

"Um, what is the Black Family magic, Sirius?" Hermione asked softly, relaxing on her best friend's lap.

"Ok, I'll tell you the short story, because I never paid attention to the full explanation, or even the legends surrounding it. Essentially, every Black donates a vial of blood before they start Hogwarts. The ceremony introduces a small portion of the child's magic to the blood, establishing a lifelong link from blood to the brain. The blood gathers every piece of new knowledge the person learns, and stores it in the blood at our vault deep in Gringotts. Once a Black hits seventeen, the dormant connections from all of the past Black family members opens, and we have access to all the knowledge ever learned by a Black since the 1300's, I think. However, the biggest downside is that its a subconscious link, meaning we can only access the spells and knowledge when our lives are in danger. The Blood provides better reflexes, faster reactions, crisper movements, and nonverbal commands on what spell to use. Its a nearly instantaneous process, the spell usually leaves the wand before you're even aware of it.

If you don't utilize Occulmency, or if you give yourself into rage and hatred, you lose control of the Family Magic, and that's when us Blacks are at our deadliest and most vulnerable. You lose any control of your own body, the Fury of the Blacks takes over. It weakens us, however, because you don't leave the state you're in until either all your opponents are vanquished, or you are. It's at best, a double edged sword. I might have a theory about you losing your connection to the Dark Lord, if I may see your wand? It looks familiar for some reason, and I know it isn't yours." Harry held out the wand reluctantly, and the Deathstick, somehow feeling its master's fear, gave out a piercing shriek that dumped Bellatrix on the floor, caused both Sirius and Hermione to clamp their hands to their ears, and gave out a magical pulse that had everyone except Harry bound in magical ropes and gagged. Three pairs of wide eyes stared back at the lone, unfettered man in acute shock. Upon closer inspection, it probably wasn't shock, but pleading for the ropes and gags to be undone, Harry mused silently. None of the three looked very comfortable. Harry jabbed his wand, and the magical bindings vanished into wisps of pale smoke.

"Who did that! I'll shove their wand so far up their anal cavity that they'll be spitting splinters for weeks!" Bella growled from the floor, her hair a crazed mess once more. There was a blinding flash of light, and a powerful jet of cold water drenched the livid witch. She howled and hissed like a dunked cat, only stopping when a second wall of water smashed into her, sending her body crashing into the wooden floor boards again.

"Well, I think that proves what Ollivander has been saying for years: wands are at least semi-sentient, and the Wand of Destiny does not like being threatened." Harry said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with his left hand. Seeing their looks of confusion, he quickly ran through how he had a dream regarding the Elder Wand, and he knew that the Dark Lord was close to discovering its location. Thankfully, he had felt something calling to him from Hogwarts, and as soon as he began walking across the grounds, the winds began to pick up, the rain beginning to slant sideways. As he approached his mentor's tomb, all of the precipitation stopped as if a switch had been flicked, and the wind seemed to stop, but Harry knew it wasn't the case, because he saw the trees moving in the background, some of the sturdy oaks even starting to fold in half. Regardless of the apparent strength of the wind, he couldn't feel it, nor could he hear it. He described the feeling of remorse as he took the wand from Dumbledore, and he told them how he replaced it with his own Holly wand. Three exclamations of shock made him pause, and he knew he had to explain.

"Look, my wand had been acting up. I don't know why, but my spell work started to become choppy, for example some spells that I've been doing for years would sputter an inch from my wand, and some wouldn't work at all. The last week before I went to get the wand was finally too much. Every spell Hermione saw me complete was actually wand less, because I couldn't get any magic to flow through my wand. Upon close inspection, I saw a rather sharp crack running along the length. My wand finally decided enough was enough, and did its last spell when it opened the Headmaster's tomb. The feather from Fawkes was poking out the side when I placed it in his hand. I knew what I had done was right, even if I regretted plundering my mentor's grave. Then something weird happened, and I could feel Padfoot the entire time. Hermione would know more than I would after that. The last thing I remember was stumbling into the tent, and collapsing on the cot." Harry told the three others.

" I had been making dinner, and I heard a sound in the tent, it sounded like something had fallen on the bed. I ran inside, wand out, and Harry was laying face down on the bed, stiffer than a board. I turned him over, and was thankful he had a pulse when I checked. I covered him over, and took dinner off the fire. I ate on the bed, and I put my head on his chest to make sure I could feel his heart beating, and the air leaving his lungs. The last thing I remember was thinking about how comfortable it was, and the next thing I knew, Harry was waking me up. That's all that happened." Hermione quickly stated, her eyes never leaving her boyfriend's frame.

"Any other massive surprises? The Dark Lord was in fact, Granger's father? Severus Snape practices safe hygiene out of societal concern in the event of a nearby fire? James Potter played one massive prank on the world, and assumed Albus Dumbledore's identity?" Bella shrieked, her eyes wide and her hair wild. Sirius put a hand on her shoulder, hoping to placate the angry witch. Faster than any of them could follow, crazed violet eyes were on on end of a wand, and surprised gray eyes were on the business end of it. "Prove that I was justified in destroying the Lestranges. Prove that I'm not insane, and my betrothed has returned from the grave." Her words were spat, crazed eyes brimming with tears. The tears overflowed when a Grim stood in Sirius' place, with gray eyes looking up into her violet orbs. Padfoot pushed his nose against Bella's hip, causing her to sit on the bed's edge, and he bounded onto her lap from the floor.

"Sirius! You aren't a lapdog, you big, hulking, flea-bitten mutt! You're going to break my lap! Get off you brute! I swear I'm going to hex you three ways from Sunday!" The Grim gave a joyful bark, and after knocking over the nightstand and the desk, he bounded out the door with a black haired witch on his tail.


	6. Chapter 6

The woman strode through Diagon Alley, her black cloak with its hood up making her blend in with the majority of the magicals walking around. She paused not at the two wizards arguing over Undesirable Number One, as her best friend Harry Potter was known these days. She even continued past the group of men leering at her shapely figure, and ignored the catcalls and whistles as the men began to follow her. Unnoticed by any of the vagabonds following her now, her Vinewood and dragon heartstring wand slid into her hand from the crude holster on her forearm. Her wand had gotten her through many trials and tribulations over the course of her life in the Wizarding World, starting on Halloween night in her first year at Hogwarts. It hadn't let her down yet, and as she remembered some of her adventures, her wand gave a positively human shudder, and a pleasant sensation traveled up her arm. She felt more than saw more people falling in off to her sides, just outside of her peripheral vision. She watched the exit of Diagon approaching, The Leaky Cauldron looking desolate. She counted off steps in her head, and began making subtle movements with just the tip of her wand, scribing invisible runes of protection on her robes. As her mental count reached null, she sent a surge of magic through her wand, charging over a dozen runes with a flash of white light that made her intentions clear. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as she dropped to her knee and spun, her trusty wand belching an impressive array of Dragon's Breath, red and golden flames tumbling over themselves in the cold London air. The flames fed off the oxygen and her magic greedily as a newborn would its mother's teat, cascading tongues of fire licking at the Snatchers following her. Red Stunners and green Killing Curses winked at her lazily, but without batting an eye, she enlarged and levitated a small steel disk from her pocket to cover her body like a shield would. The Stunners hit first, bouncing off the highly polished chrome with _zings_ of displaced air. She crouched with her legs at shoulder width and bowed; then she waved both her hands up, causing the shield to square out to hide her completely. She heard three metallic _pings_, oddly reminiscent of hail striking a car, and saw sizzling holes open on the square nowhere near her body. With a sigh, she flicked her wand forward, and the chrome sheet rocketed away from her. She sprang away, running towards the exit at a full sprint. The wind lifted her hood away, no time to fix it. She flicked her wand behind her, hearing the roar of a man getting hit by her knock-back hex.  
>"IT'S GRANGER! GET THE MUDBLOOD! CALL FOR BACKUP!" The lead Snatcher bellowed.<br>"Come get me! Pick on someone who can fight back for once!" She snapped out, her wand lifting and falling in waves, reflecting spells back at her attackers.  
>"I'm gonna make you beg for mercy, Mudblood!" the leader spat. "You killed my cousin back there. I'll make you pay!"<br>"Big talk for a little man. Sectumsempra!" the leader barely deflected her curse in time, and as he was shielding two rapid fire Stunners, she slipped a piercing curse behind them. He started laughing as the stunners failed against his shield, but the laughter died on his face as his legs gave out from under him, his shocked expression staring at the perfect hole burrowed into his heart. Hermione Granger roared her triumph to the heavens. Her magic unconsciously amplified the lung burning release, and the Snatchers fell back before her, clutching their ears. A couple recovered quickly, and raised their wands to attack once more. Alas, Madam Granger was ready. The cobblestones below them transformed into razor sharp iron spikes, and as she had no time for precise details with her transfiguration, the iron was not gleaming, but red with rust. Three of her opponents fell, spikes driving up through their feet and toes. The remaining two stepped over their comrades, and attacked as one. She was hard pressed to defend herself, and she hissed in pain as she felt a burning sensation in her left shoulder. She slashed her wand at them, smirking as one collapsed clutching his fatally opened throat.  
>"I have you now!" the last Snatcher yelled, a mad fire dancing in his eyes as he lunged forward and grabbed Hermione's arm. She shrieked, and as he opened his mouth, exposing yellowed teeth stained with blood, she jabbed her wand down his throat. Golden flames danced along her wand, and in moments, had completely engulfed her attacker. She spun around on her heel, and with a simple flick of her wand, the flames ran off the wooden focus like drops of water.<p>

The remaining Death Eaters were gathering in the middle of the Alley, all the wands now bearing down on Hermione. Nothing fazed the muggleborn witch, however. She strode forward with no emotion marring her features, her robes snapping about her heels as if they were playful puppies. Her wavy locks billowed about her as if dancing in waves of static electricity, her muscles taut, her eyes dancing like rivers of molten gold. Her jaw was clenched in an obvious display of her marshaled fury. Her right arm rose slowly, deliberately, as if the very motion was taking all of her arm strength to accomplish, and her left arm started following a parallel path. Abruptly, at eye level, she sent her hands careening together, and a cataclysmic blast of gale-force winds knocked the dark wizards back as if they were flies before a swatter. One wizard raised a marble wall in time to deflect the blast away, and responded with a blazing fast staccato of spells, none of which were "legal". Each spell was met just as fast, with spells and magic just as lethal. The air crackled as the two faced off, the world forgotten around them. Spells met in midair, and split into storefronts unnoticed. The speed of the violence increased, and both opponents began circling closer together as everything spiraled out of control further. Great storm clouds roiled overhead, churning and dancing in the forbidding heavens. A spell ripped the silver mask off the man's face, and Rookwood's sunken eyes met Granger's blazing eyes as both brilliant minds unleashed the same exact spell, at the exact instant as the other. The spells were a brilliant blue so bright,they hovered at the edge of white. The very air thrummed with the tension of a beast barely restrained; sparks began to fall as if snow as the atmosphere became superheated. Rookwood snarled, his knuckles whitening around his wand as he continued to advance, his wand tip nearly kissing Granger's. His challenge was met with a low growl that began in Hermione's soul, and rumbled across the tight scar tissue under her breastbone from Dolohov, and from between her bared teeth as the cords on her neck stood out. Both wands began trembling, white-hot as the tips closed in for an adolescent kiss; stumbling, awkward and passionate. The two wands quivered, then began vibrating as the distance closed at snail's pace. An explosion shattered the tension heartbeats later, everything within blast radius being flung away violently.

Rookwood crashed through Ollivander's boarded shop, as Hermione experienced Newton's third law; for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. The young witch hit the stairs across the Alley at an awkward angle. Her wand arm snapped as she struggled to get up, and in her burnt out state, gave out a shriek of pain as her bone lanced out through her skin. The Death Eaters began to advance on her position, and she struggled to get up again, to much laughter from the remaining three wizards. They were within a dozen feet when smoke began swirling over the cobbled street, and one of the wizards disappeared with a gurgle. The last two men trained their wands on Granger, but their vision slid out of focus for a second, only to refocus on the tall man standing in front of her. His legs were at shoulder width, a smirk playing across his face. His gray eyes were alight with the fire of a battle to come, and he twirled his wand with a casual arrogance that suggested extensive skills with magical combat. His lean form was clad in elegantly cut robes of black Acromantula silk, his equally black hair flawlessly straight and off his shoulders; a Lord of an Ancient and Noble house, betrothed. His face was well chiseled and aristocratic, his cheek bones high and narrow. The one thing that stuck out perhaps the most about his appearance, however, was the Motto stitched to his breast: Tojours Pur, the motto of the Ancient and Noble House of Black.

"Shall we, lads? I'm sure upstanding citizens such as yourselves were just about to help this young lass up, right?" Lord Black asked, and seeing naught but stupefaction, he sighed. "Really, the state of society these days!" He rolled his eyes, and with a flick of his wand, Hermione's arm was wrapped tightly with bandages and splinted. Lord Black strode forward, his gait textbook perfect pureblood poise, drilled into the man from as soon as he could walk until he ran away from home at 16. No motion, no energy wasted: the rolling gait of a predator in his element.

"STOP! In the name of The Dark Lord, you're under arrest!" One Death Eater ordered, his voice far more confident than his appearances.

"Why, I am ever so sorry young man. I forgot my hearing trumpet at home this fine morning. Could you, perhaps, step closer and speak next to my ear? Getting old is a rather major inconvenience." He quipped, taking two steps closer to the pair of dark wizards.

"No closer! Or I'll blow your brains out!" The other one said.

"BOO!" Sirius said before vanishing in a swirl of color, leaving nothing but a metal ball behind. Within moments, the lurid yellow smoke disappeared, leaving everyone covered in pink, from hair, to toenails, flesh and clothing both.


End file.
